Marrying the Scarred Sheikh

by Barbara McMahon

  In a surprisingly short time they were airborne. Ella was so curious about the fire she could hardly sit still. Respecting Bethanne’s need for concentration, she kept quiet until the pilot leveled out.

  “There, all set. We’re heading for the capital city now,” Bethanne said.

  Ella looked at her. “Tell me about the fire. Khalid didn’t say a thing to me about it.”

  “It’s in Kuwait and a bad one. Apparently two wells, connected somehow, ignited. Seven men are known dead and a couple of others are missing. They says it’s burning millions of gallons of oil. And hot enough to be felt a half a mile away.”

  “He can’t put it out,” Ella said, staggered trying to imagine the puny efforts of men to extinguish such a raging inferno.

  “You know Khalid, he’ll do his best. And my money’s on him.”

  “Someone should stop him,” Ella said.

  “What?” Bethanne looked at her. “He’ll be okay. He always comes through.”

  “He got burned pretty badly one time,” Ella reminded her.

  “Freak accident.”

  “Which could happen again. Good grief, if the heat is felt so far away, what would it be like close enough to cap it? It’s probably melting everything around it and there’d be nothing to cap.”

  “So they put out the flames, let the oil seep and figure out a way to get into production again. That’s what Khalid does, and he’s really good at it, according to Rashid. Who, by the way, also wishes he wouldn’t do this job. But he knows Khalid is driven to do this and won’t stand in his way.”

  Ella nodded, fear rising like a knot in her throat. She swallowed with difficulty, every fiber of her being wanting to see Khalid again.

  She gazed out the window, wishing they’d arranged to ride back together in that air-conditioned car she’d wanted. They would have been out of contact, and someone else would be tapped to try to put out the oil fire. He’d be safe.

  “When did the call come?” she asked.

  “It happened last night. I suspect they called him once they saw what happened. He’s the world’s best, you know.”

  “He should retire.”

  Bethanne reached out and squeezed Ella’s hand. “I know, I’d feel that way if it were Rashid. But women can’t change men. My mother told me that fact years ago when explaining how she and my father married and then divorced. She had hoped having a family would be enough for him, but it never was. Some men are meant to do more adventurous things than others.”

  “I’d hardly call putting out raging oil fires adventurous—more like exceedingly dangerous. Why couldn’t he have been a professor or accountant or something?”

  Bethanne shrugged. “You might ask yourself why you’re engaged to the man. You knew what he did. Yet you plan to marry. It’s not going to get easier, but support is important.”

  Ella couldn’t tell her why they were engaged. Apparently Rashid had kept Khalid’s secret. Ella couldn’t tell anyone she considered leaving Quishari because of Khalid. Maybe the decision would be taken from her. There was nothing she could do now but pray for his safety. She wished they’d ended the evening differently. That she had told him how much she cared. That she’d dare risk everything to let him know she loved him. Would she ever get that chance?

  The flight seemed endless. She wanted more information. Could she call Khalid when they landed? She knew Bethanne was flying his crew back to Quraim Wadi Samil to pick him up and fly them all to Kuwait. He’d still be at the hotel. For a moment her mind went blank. What was the name of the hotel? She had to call him, tell him to be careful.

  “Rashid will meet the plane,” Bethanne said after responding to flight control. She began descending. Ella could see the city, the blue of the Gulf beyond. But the beauty was lost, fear held her tightly. “He’s not going, is he?” Ella asked.

  “No, he’s taking you home. I’ll be back late tonight. He didn’t want you to be alone.”

  “Maybe I can work to take my mind off things,” she said. The truth was she couldn’t think about anything except Khalid and the danger he was facing.

  “Go with Rashid. He’ll have the most current information about Khalid and the crew. Besides, he’s swinging by his mother’s place to update her. Dealing with Madame al Harum is enough to take anyone’s mind off troubles. That woman is a piece of work.”

  Ella smiled despite her worry. “At least we have that in common. Do you think she’ll ever come around to accepting you?”

  “My guess is once I have a baby or two.”

  Ella blinked and gazed out the window. What if she and Khalid married and she had a baby? She remembered thinking about a little dark-eyed little girl, or a couple of rambunctious boys that looked just like Khalid. How would she ever stand it if they wanted to grow up to be oil firefighters.

  “Madame al Harum must be beside herself with worry,” she said. “I would be if it were my son going to fight that fire.”

  “I would never let a son of mine grow up to do that,” Bethanne said.

  “Thought you said a woman can’t change a man.”

  “Well, then I’d start with a little boy.”

  Ella laughed. Then almost cried when she thought more about the danger Khalid faced. How he’d once been an adorable little boy, running at the beach, playing with his twin. How quickly those years must have flown by.

  Rashid was standing beside a limo when the plane taxied up to the hangar. There were a half dozen men near him with duffel bags and crates. As soon as the engines were shut down, men began swarming around the plane, loading everything. It was being refueled even as Ella stepped down the stairs. Bethanne followed, then hugged Rashid tightly.

  “I wish you’d let someone else fly the plane,” he said.

  “I’m going. Don’t argue. It’s Khalid you should be worried about. I’ll pick him up and then take them all to Kuwait. I’ll be home late tonight. You take care of Ella. I think she’s in shock.”

  “No, I’m fine. I think I should go home.”

  “You’re coming with me,” Rashid said.

  She looked at him, almost seeing Khalid. Certainly hearing that autocratic tone of his. They looked so alike, yet so different.

  “Any news?” she asked.

  “Nothing beyond what we learned earlier. Once we reach home we’ll call Khalid. He’s been talking with the oil field people so will have the latest intel. This all you have?” he asked as one of the men put her bag in the trunk of the limo.

  “Yes. It was a short trip.” Too short if it was to be the last time she saw Khalid.

  Ella went with Rashid to his mother’s home. He did not speak on the ride except to try to reassure her that Khalid knew what he was doing and wouldn’t take any foolish risks. “Especially now,” Rashid said.

  Ella nodded, wishing they’d never embarked on this stupid fake engagement. Everyone thought he’d be extra careful, but Rashid knew Khalid had no special reason to be extra cautious. She knew he wouldn’t be foolhardy, but so many things could go wrong. What if there was another explosion and his suit was torn again. She couldn’t bear to think of the pain he’d go through while healing.

  Or what if things went really, really wrong?

  “My mother can be a bit difficult. We know she loves us. Sometimes I think it’s hard for a mother to realize her children are grown and have their own lives.”

  Ella thought about her parents. “Sometimes they just want to control children forever.”

  “Or maybe they get used to it and find it hard to let go.”

  “Your mother doesn’t have to like me,” she said.

  “No, but it would make family life so much more comfortable in the future, don’t you think? We do celebrate happy occasions together—holidays, birthdays.”

  “Bethanne said once she was a grandmother, she’d come around.”

  Rashid laughed. “That’s our hope. But not right away. I want her to myself for a while.”

  Would Khalid ever want someone to
himself for a while? She wished it would be her.

  Madame al Harum was distraught when they arrived. She rushed to the door. “Have you heard anything more?”

  “No, Mother,” Rashid said, giving her a hug. “He’s still in Quraim Wadi Samil. Bethanne just took off to get him. It’ll be a few hours before they’re in Kuwait.”

  “Call him. I need to talk to him,” she ordered.

  “You and Ella.”

  The older woman looked at Ella as if seeing her for the first time. “Oh.” She frowned. “Of course.”

  “We both want Khalid safely back,” Ella said.

  Madame al Harum nodded. “Come, we will call him.”

  Khalid had maps and charts spread around him when the phone rang.

  “Al Harum,” he said, hoping this was another call from the site, updating the situation.

  “Khalid, it’s your mother. I wanted to tell you to be careful.”

  “I always am, Mother.” He leaned back in his chair, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his eyes. He’d been studying the layout of the oil field, where the pipes had been drilled and the safety protocols that were in place. He figured he could recite every fact about that field in his sleep.

  Glancing at his watch, he noted the plane would be arriving in less than an hour. He had talked to his second in command before he boarded and all the gear they needed was either on the plane or being shipped directly to the fire.

  “We will watch over Ella for you,” she said.

  Khalid’s attention snapped back to his mother. Ella. He should have told her this morning before she left, but he’d already been involved in learning all he could from the source. He hadn’t wanted to interrupt the phone call to go tell her goodbye.

  “She returned safely?” he asked.

  “Yes. She’s here. Take care of yourself, son.”

  Before Khalid could say anything, he heard Ella’s soft voice.

  “Khalid?”

  “Yes. You got back all right, I see.”

  “I didn’t know until we were on the plane what was going on. I wished you had told me. You will be careful, won’t you?”

  “I always am.” He was warmed by the concern in her voice.

  “From what I’ve heard, this one is really bad.”

  He heard a sound from his mother in the background.

  “It does seem that way. I’ll know more when I get there, but so far, this is probably the most challenging one we’ve tried.”

  “I guess I couldn’t talk you out of going?” she asked hopefully.

  He laughed, picturing her with her pretty brown eyes, hair blowing in the sea breeze. “No, but I wish I didn’t have to leave you. Not that I’d take you to a fire. I enjoyed yesterday.” He wished he could pull her into his arms this moment and kiss her again. If he hadn’t already been on the phone, nothing would have stopped him from explaining this morning—and taking another kiss for luck.

  “Me, too.”

  He waited, hoping she’d say more. The silence on the line was deafening.

  “I better go. I’m expecting another call,” he finally said. Nothing was going to be decided on the telephone.

  “Okay. Take care of yourself. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  He hung up, wondering where else she’d be but at the cottage. She had a lease for another four years. And at this moment, he was grateful for his grandmother’s way of doing things.

  The phone rang again and this time it was the field manager in Kuwait. Time to push personal agendas on the back burner. He had a conflagration to extinguish.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ELLA chafed at the way time dragged by. Rashid stayed for a while, then claimed work needed him and took off. Leaving her with Madame al Harum. Ella knew she’d be better off at home. She could try to take her mind off her worry about Khalid with work. Here she had nothing. She rose from the sofa where she’d sat almost since she’d arrived and walked to the window which overlooked the city. It looked hot outside. She’d rather be at the beach.

  “I think I’ll go home,” she said.

  “Stay.”

  Turning, she looked at Khalid’s mother. “There’s nothing to do here. At home I have work that might distract me from worry.”

  Sabria al Harum tried to smile. “Nothing will make you forget. I had years of practice with my husband when he went on oil fields. Always worrying about his safety. And he did not try to put out fires. I now worry about Khalid. Rashid assures me he knows his job. But he cannot know what a fire will do.”

  “It makes it worse since he was injured once,” Ella said, looking back out the window.

  “Yet you don’t seem to mind his scar.”

  Ella shrugged. “He is not his scar, any more than he is defined by being tall. It’s what’s inside that counts.”

  There was a short silence then Sabria said, “Many people don’t grasp that concept. He was terribly hurt by the defection of his fiancée when he was still in hospital.”

  “She either freaked or was not strong enough to be his wife. Khalid is very intense. Not everyone could live with that.”

  “You could.”

  Ella nodded, tears filling her eyes. She could. She would love to be the one he picked to share his life. She would match him toe-to-toe if he got autocratic. And she would love to spend the nights in his arms.

  “He was like that as a little boy,” Sabria said softly.

  When Ella turned, she was surprised at the look of love on her hostess’s face. “Tell me,” she invited. She was eager for every scrap of knowledge she could get of Khalid.

  “I have some pictures. Come, I’ll tell you all about my wild twins and show you what I had to put up with.” The words were belied by the tone of affection and longing.

  Ella was surprised at the number of photo albums in the sitting area of Sabria al Harum’s bedroom. The room was bright and airy, decorated in peach and cream colors, feminine and friendly. She would never have suspected the rather austere woman to have this side to her.

  Pulling a fat album from the shelves behind the sofa, Sabria sat and patted the cushion next to her for Ella to sit. Placing the album in Ella’s lap a moment later, she opened it. For the next hour, the two women looked at all the pictures—from when two adorable babies came home in lacy robes, to the smiling nannies who helped care for them, to the proud parents and on up to adulthood. There were fewer pictures of the two young men, too busy to spend lots of time with their parents. Then she paused over one last picture.

  “This was the one taken just before the fire that scarred my son so badly. He has never had his picture taken since. People can be cruel when faced unexpectedly with abnormalities—whether scarring or handicaps. He was doubly injured with the loss of his fiancée. He has so much to offer.”

  Ella nodded. A mother always said that, but in Khalid’s case, it was true.

  The phone rang. Sabria rose swiftly and crossed to answer the extension in her sitting room.

  “Thank you,” she said a moment later.

  “That was Rashid. The team has taken off from Quraim Wadi Samil. They’ll be in Kuwait in a couple of hours. There’s nothing to do but wait.”

  “Then come with me to my studio. I’ll show you my work and you can advise me. Madame Alia al Harum thought I had promise. I want to earn a living by my work, but if it is really impossible, maybe I should find out now, rather than later.”

  “You will not need to work once married to Khalid.”

  Ella had no quick response. Only she and Khalid knew there would be no marriage.

  “Come and see.”

  Sabria thought about it for a moment then nodded. “I believe I should like to see what you do.”

  The afternoon passed slowly. Sabria looked at all the work Ella had done, proclaiming with surprise how beautiful it was. “No wonder my mother-in-law thought you had such promise. You have rare talent. I know just where I’d like to see that rosy vase. It would be perfect in my friend’s bedroo
m. Perhaps I shall buy it for her. When will you begin to sell?”

  Ella explained the original plan and then her idea to start earlier. Soon she and Sabria were discussing advantages and disadvantages of going public too soon, yet without the public feedback, how would Ella know which ideas were the most marketable.

  Ella wasn’t sure if it was the situation, or the fact Sabria was finally receptive to seeing her as an individual—not someone out to capture her son’s affections—but she felt the tentative beginning of a friendship. Not that Sabria would necessarily wish to continue when the engagement was broken. Ella could see the dilemma—who took the blame? She didn’t want to. Yet in fairness, she needed to be the one. Khalid had been helping her. He did not need any more grief in his life.

  They called Rashid for news before eating dinner on the veranda. Nothing new. Ella made a quick spaghetti with sauce she’d prepared a while ago and frozen. The camaraderie in the kitchen was another surprise. Ella thought she could really get to like Khalid’s mother.

  “I’m going now,” Sabria said after they’d enjoyed dinner and some more conversation. Ella could listen to stories about the twins all week. Darkness had fallen. It was getting late. Nothing would change tonight. Khalid had told Rashid they needed to plan carefully since the fire was involved with two wells.

  When she took a walk on the beach before going to bed, Ella looked to the north. She could see nothing. The fire was too far away. But she could imagine it. She dealt with fire every day—controlled and beneficial. Raging out of control would be so different. She offered another prayer for Khalid’s safety. Her decision to leave was best. She could see about selling what she’d already done and arrange shipping to Italy of her annealer and crucible and glass. She’d establish herself somewhere near enough to see her parents, but far enough away to make sure they knew she was not coming back to the family. Not until her brother’s situation was cleared up.

  In the meantime, she did her best not to focus on Khalid, but everything from the beach to the house next door reminded her of him. She could picture him standing in her doorway. Looking at the art she had created. Holding the yellow vase in his house that his grandmother had loved. She ached with loneliness and yearning. Could she get by without him over the years ahead?